One Scandalous Kiss
An Accidental Heirs Novel
Christy Carlyle
Genre: Historical Romance
Publisher: Avon Impulse
Date of Publication: September 8, 2015
ISBN: 9780062427991
ASIN:B00V3MGEOA
Number of pages: 256
Book Description:
Debut Victorian historical romance author Christy Carlyle delights in the first book of her Accidental Heirs series in which a suffragete bookshop owner agrees to a devil’s bargain that results in one scandalous kiss. When a desperate Jessamin Wright bursts into an aristocratic party and shocks the entire ton, she believes it’s the only way to save her failing bookstore.
The challenge sounded easy when issued, but the one thing she never expected was to enjoy the outrageous embrace she shares with a serious viscount. Lucius Crawford, Viscount Grimsby, has never met, or kissed, anyone like this beautiful suffragette. He’s determined to protect the title he’s unexpectedly inherited and Jess doesn’t fit into his plans.
When a country house party brings these two people together once more, neither can resist the temptation and both find that one scandalous kiss just isn’t enough.
CHAPTER ONE
London, September 1890
She’d never imagined wealth would be so uncomfortable. Nearly every
aspect of the Marquess of Clayborne’s Belgrave Square drawing room made
Jessamin Wright uneasy. There were no books stacked in piles, no candles whose
wax had run down their sides in haphazard sculptures, and not a spot of ash
dusting the hearth—nothing inviting about the room at all. How could any
lived-in space be so clean? The slippery damask settee felt stiff and
unyielding beneath her body. Nothing about it urged you to sit and stop awhile.
Even art was lacking from the walls, except for a series of watercolors of what
must have been a terribly boring fox hunt. A fire burned low in the grate and
offered a bit of warmth against the autumn chill, but the cool beiges and tepid
pinks of the wallpaper and furnishings made Jess feel slightly queasy, as if
blood had been drained from her body as thoroughly as color had been drawn out
of every surface in the room. Even the wood was light colored or painted white
and lacquered to a high sheen. It was all wrong. No room should be so spotless.
As she and Alice had yet to meet their host, she began to doubt that anyone
lived here at all. Then again, she’d never before set foot inside a fine London
townhouse. Perhaps they were all this stark and unpleasant.
Jess
didn’t have to look down to know the room’s pristine neatness contrasted
sharply with her scuffed boots, soot-dusted cloak, and unfashionable work
clothes. She found it impossible to settle herself in such elegant
surroundings. Sitting, then standing, then sitting again, she rearranged her
limbs and scratched her neck in a most unladylike manner. Finally finding a
spot on the settee that suited her, she stripped off her twice-mended gloves
but kept her hands clasped, careful not to touch anything for fear she might
leave a mark.
Her
cluttered thoughts offered as little comfort as the room. She fretted about
leaving the bookshop managed solely by her assistant, Jack. He was a longtime
employee and utterly trustworthy, but he’d never been fond of dealing with
customers. He simply loved books—acquiring them, reading them, repairing
them—and that was something she understood. He hadn’t stayed on after Father’s
death for her, but out of loyalty to Lionel Wright. She understood that too.
One of Father’s gifts had been the ability to inspire a bone deep sense of
obligation in others. Since Jess had taken on the shop, other employees had
been hard to come by—few men wished to take their wages and direction from a
woman.
Slipping
Father’s old watch from its place in her skirt pocket, Jess’s mind sifted
through what she had yet to accomplish before resting her head for the day. It
was a long list and —Ah, that too—now
included an article she’d almost
forgotten to write for the Women’s Union journal.
“I hope
Lady Katherine hasn’t forgotten us. To be honest, I won’t be sad to see the
last of this room. It’s all rather cold, even with the fire. Makes you afraid
to touch anything or even breathe.”
Alice
McGregor had an uncanny talent for reading one’s mind and could always be
counted on for blunt and insightful commentary. Of all Jessamin’s friends at
the Women’s Union, Alice was the most practical and plain-speaking. Delicacy
was overrated as far as Alice was concerned. She said what everyone else was
thinking but knew it impolite to mention.
“No,
it’s not terribly inviting, is it?”
If Jess
could decorate such a room, the colors would be bold and full of life. Red
would do very nicely. And she’d decorate the walls with art so vivid you’d
believe you could smell the pot of basil in a Holman Hunt painting or hear the
swish of silk and satin as one of Mr. Tissot’s beauties crossed the room. She
closed her eyes and imagined crimson walls covered with art in rich, vibrant
colors.
“Miss
Wright, have I caught you napping?” Lady Katherine Adderly’s giggle was like
the clash of two crystal glasses meeting in a toast. Sharp and clear, it
instantly snapped Jessamin out of her fantasies.
As she
swept in, a maid followed close on her heels with a tea tray. Lady Katherine
smelled of flowers, but far too many, the scent cloying and sickly sweet.
“Forgive
me, my lady.” It was easier for Jessamin to apologize for drowsing than
acknowledge how she loathed the decor.
Jess and
Alice exchanged raised-brow glances as their hostess handed each of them a fine
porcelain teacup and began the process of pouring tea and offering them
confections from plates laden with biscuits and tiny pastries. It was an
elaborate ritual, much more fuss about tea than Jess had ever made in life. But
the rich tang of jasmine in the brew was delicious and she was grateful for the
distraction of the warm refreshment, even as she sensed the persistent tick of
Father’s watch against her skirt pocket. She had to get back to the shop and
hoped their meeting with the marquess’s daugther wouldn’t take long.
“I’m
pleased to make this donation to the Women’s Union. You know how I enjoy the
lively meetings.”
Lady
Katherine had attended only three of the group’s weekly meetings over the
course of four months, but she’d been eager to make a financial contribution
and Alice, as the union’s treasurer and co-founder, was all too happy to
accept. Jess wasn’t certain why Alice had asked her to come along to collect
the money, but as editor of the group’s printed journal and author of many of
the speeches given at gatherings, she supposed she was a visible member of the
organization.
“We are
most grateful for the funds, my lady.” As always Alice spoke with sincerity,
gratitude clear in her tone.
“Oh,
please call me Kitty.”
Alice
took a sip of tea, attempting to hold the cup with all the dignity Kitty seemed to manage effortlessly.
“I
understand there’s another worthy cause to which I may also contribute.”
“I’m
sure there are many in London,” Jess offered, thinking of a dozen ways she
might spend charitable funds, not to mention the money needed to salvage the
indebted bookshop her father had left her.
“I was
referring to you, Miss Wright.”
Jessamin
shot Alice a look, wondering just what her scrupulously honest friend had
revealed to Lady Katherine.
“I
understand you have a bookshop and lending library here in town.”
“Yes, my
lady,” Jess bit off, unable to keep the irritation from her voice. Alice
shouldn’t have mentioned her situation to anyone. Kitty might be feeling
benevolent, but the amount needed to clear the shop’s debt was more than any
wealthy aristocrat’s daughter would wish to spend, no matter how generous they
were feeling.
“Would
one hundred pounds be useful to you?”
A shiver
tickled Jessamin’s spine as she contemplated the amount, a sum she couldn’t
earn at the shop in months, perhaps not even in a year. It wasn’t nearly enough
to clear the entire debt, but it would bring her payments with the bank
current.
Jessamin
studied Kitty’s feline smile and tried to unravel the mystery of the young
woman’s wish to help her. She knew Kitty was wealthy, the daughter of a
marquess, and perhaps a bit bored, but she’d never even conversed with her
before today. Kitty was mentioned off and on in the scandal sheets Jess
admitted to no one she indulged in reading, but she was hardly known as an
outstanding philanthropist.
Charity
tasted sour, yet how could she refuse the sum?
“Neither
a borrower nor a lender be” had been one of Father’s favorite lines from Hamlet. But it was an adage he’d failed
to uphold. His gambling had turned him into the worst sort of borrower, taking
loans from friends and money from the bookshop he’d worked so hard to build up.
For Jess’s part, she’d become a lender soon after her father’s death, finally
instituting the lending library she’d been envisioning for years. It seemed
neither of them had heeded the Shakespearian admonition at all.
Kitty
watched Jess closely and appeared to notice the moment she’d almost made up her
mind to accept the money.
“I am so
pleased you’ll allow me to help you, Jessamin. And in return, I’m certain you
won’t mind assisting me with one tiny request.”
Alice
frowned and set her teacup on the table between them, edging forward on the
settee as if she meant to get up and leave. “I’m not sure that’s quite right.”
“What is
the favor, Lady Katherine? Please, let’s speak plainly with one another.” It
didn’t surprise Jess in the least that Kitty expected something in return. No
one offered such a sum without expecting something in return.
“Kitty,
please. Do call me Kitty. It’s a simple favor, really. As simple as a kiss.”
Jess choked. “Pardon?” she squeaked, when
she’d finally managed to swallow her mouthful of tea and could breathe again.
“Just a
kiss, Jessamin. Surely you don’t object to kissing.” Kitty’s teasing tone
belied the glint of steel in her gaze. “You’re a modern, free-thinking woman,
after all. You believe in the suffrage and equality for our sex. You should
feel quite free to kiss any man you like.”
Kissing
men had nothing to do with Jess’s interest in social reform or gaining a voice
for women in the political sphere. If Kitty thought it did, she hadn’t been to
nearly enough meetings.
“You
want me to kiss a man?” Jess spoke the words as if it was an extraordinary
feat. And it was. She’d never kissed a man. Not really. A childish, graceless
kiss on the cheek from Tom Jenkins when she was twelve years old hardly
counted.
“This
seems a rather strange favor, Kitty.” Alice’s precise tone cut through the
quiet of the room.
Kitty’s
tinkling laughter rang out. “Yes, I suppose it does. But it’s merely a harmless
bit of revenge.”
“Revenge.”
Jess waited. There had to be more.
“Oh, all
right. If you must know, the dreadful man snubbed me.” Kitty plumped her
bow-shaped mouth in a pout.
Was she
the shallowest heiress in Belgravia? The thought that Kitty wished to seek
revenge because a man did not prefer her company was ridiculous. Her beauty and
wealth could secure her any suitor she set her cap at. In fact, the question of
why the man rejected her was as intriguing as her desire for Jess to kiss him.
“Why did
he snub you?”
“Why,
indeed!” Kitty straightened up in her chair and slid her fingers into honey
blond hair, tucking her already neatly pinned coiffure more firmly into place.
“Perhaps because he is an odious man. If he wasn’t a viscount, soon to be an
earl, and so irredeemably handsome, I wouldn’t have bothered with him. Never
mind Papa’s mad notion I marry Lord Grim. Freddie is much more fun, even if he
doesn’t have a farthing to his name.” Kitty turned the full force of her bright
green gaze on Jess. “You’ll do it then?”
“I’m
still not sure I understand.”
Kitty’s
tone became pedantic, as if she was speaking to a child who needed to be set
aright.
“My
dear, it couldn’t be simpler. Viscount Grimsby snubbed me at a soiree last week
and I would like your help to put him in his place. He’s a dour man, as cold as
marble. Some call him Lord Grim. And so he is. Grim and heartless. He needs a
little comeuppance.” As an afterthought, she added, “He’s against the vote for
women, of course.”
As if
that made the whole ridiculous scheme noble. As if kissing him would change his
mind about women’s suffrage.
“And
where does kissing come into play?” It all sounded wrong to Jess, like the
discordant notes of an untuned piano playing over and over in her mind, but
Kitty waved away her concern dismissively.
“It
won’t be a real kiss, my dear. Not the kind that matters. Just a kiss that
knocks him off his pedestal a bit. It will cause him a trifle of social bother.
Stir up some tittle tattle.”
For a
moment Kitty’s expression altered, the corners of her mouth turning down as if
she’d fallen into troubled contemplation. Jess wondered if she was already
regretting her petty scheme? Then she lifted her head, a satisfied
cat-at-the-cream grin lifting her cheeks.
“The
next time I see the man at a ball, perhaps he’ll manage a bit of humility. And
since no one else will wish to stand up with him, I suspect he’ll be more than
happy to dance with me.”
None of
Kitty’s words put Jess’s mind at ease. She’d never heard of Lord Grimsby but
from Kitty’s description, kissing the man certainly didn’t sound appealing.
“I
happen to know he’ll be at an art gallery in Mayfair this evening.”
“And?”
Jess was growing impatient. Who had time for games when she had a business to
run?
“There
will be a gathering at the gallery. Mrs. Ornish is a great fan of art and has
sponsored one of the artists whose works will be featured. I do wonder why he
always goes to Mrs. Ornish’s events. Could he have his eye on Meredith, do you
think?”
Of
course, Jess had no idea who Mrs. Ornish or Meredith was. She might share their
love of art, but they were the kind of women with wealth enough to offer an
artist patronage. Jess couldn’t even afford to buy a painting. Her walls were
decorated with cut-out prints culled from books and newspapers.
“Kitty,
please just tell me. What must I do?”
Kitty’s
crooked her mouth alluringly. Jess supposed she used the simpering expression
to charm everyone. Everyone except Lord Grimsby, apparently.
“I want
you to show up at the gallery event and stride up to Lord Grim. Yes, you’ll
just walk up and plant a kiss square on that cruel, unsmiling mouth of his.”
“I
really don’t think—“Alice’s voice had taken on the same pitch and volume she
used to quiet the women’s group meetings.
Jess
knew what she was going to say and cut her off. “Wait. Let me consider a
moment.”
Jess
closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She had to do it. She needed the one
hundred pounds Kitty offered. There was no denying what the woman proposed was
scandalous, not to mention farcical and childish. But Jess had no reputation to
protect. As Kitty said, she saw herself as a free-thinking woman, unhampered by
society’s strictures and eager for changing women’s roles. She had no idea how
kissing a complete stranger would strike a blow for woman’s rights, but she
knew her desperation for funds made her beholden to Kitty’s whims.
“Come,
Jessamin.” Kitty’s sing song voice was cajoling. “I dare you.”
Because
Jess’s speeches encouraged action over words, perhaps Kitty saw her as brave
and daring. But if she was brave, it was because Father died and took all of
her options with him. She’d lost
everything—her home, a modestly comfortable lifestyle, freedom to study and
spend her days more or less as she wished—and put all her energy into
maintaining his business, even after discovering the massive debt he’d
accumulated. She was beginning to make inroads toward repaying the debt and
Kitty’s funds would be another step toward financial success for Wright and
Sons Booksellers.
“Fine.
I’ll do it.”
Kitty
gasped with delight and clapped her hands together.
Alice
shot her a look as if Jess had taken leave of whatever sense she’d been given.
Jess
couldn’t match Kitty’s enthusiasm nor acknowledge Alice’s concern. She was too
busy fighting off the sense of dread that settled in the pit of her stomach at
the prospect of what she’d agreed to do.
About the Author:
Fueled by Pacific Northwest coffee and inspired by multiple viewings of every British costume drama she can get her hands on, Christy Carlyle writes sensual historical romance set in the Victorian era. She loves heroes who struggle against all odds and heroines who are ahead of their time. A former teacher with a degree in history, she finds there’s nothing better than being able to combine her love of the past with a die-hard belief in happy endings.
Website: http://www.christycarlyle.com/
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